


Midnight Child, The Dreamer

by PrismFanatic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry, Dark Magic, F/M, Hufflepuff Harry, M/M, Past Lives, Rebirth, Rituals, Runes, Smart Harry, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismFanatic/pseuds/PrismFanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Harry sleeps he dreams of another life, another time. It isn't until he receives his Hogwarts letter that he truly realizes why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming of a Life

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own or seek to make a profit off Harry Potter or any characters of Harry Potter.

Dreamer.

Young Harry James Potter was a dreamer.

Awake or asleep, he dreamt of life and love, death and hardship, family and pain. Had done, for as long as he could remember. Dreams gave him a safe harbor when his neglectful and abusive family became to much for him to handle. Good or bad, the dreams broke up the monotony of chores and the time he spent locked in his cupboard.

Some of his dreams were fuzzy around the edges and fading but filled with warmth and love. A beautiful red haired woman that loved him, nuzzled him in her arms and sang him to sleep with a voice bright and airy. Her laughter was tinkling, her voice warm and soothing. A man with messy black hair and crooked glasses that made lights with a stick simply to entertain him, whom always looked at him with pride and affection. Played with him, laughed with him, like he was a precious _precious_ thing. A barking laugh, a shaggy black dog  that used to slobber on his face. A quiet soothing voice reading him stories at nap time paired with warm amber eyes.

Other dreams were dark and scary. Flashing green light, a hissing snake, a woman crying and begging. Screams that were never ending. Pain.

But over the years those dreams faded to the back of his mind only to reappear randomly as if to remind him who he was and where he had come from. They were replaced with dreams so clear and vivid that they were like memories instead. Memories of a life he had lived separate from the one he was living. Those dreams happened so regularly that at a young age he felt he had lived another life while his body was sleeping.

In that life, his dream life, he was called by another name and held to a different standard than the one at the Dursley's, even if those standards were still harsh.

* * *

_"No no no, wrong! Why do you insist on being so mundane when you come from such glorious stock as mine, child!"_

_She was beauty personified but in moments like these, when she lost herself in her self-importance, she was ugly and cruel. Men had come from miles around to gaze at her, attempt to court her for her talents, or spend a moment in her presence. Her beauty. Her intelligence. But they were never enough for her, to intent on her studies, to intent on leaving her own legacy to notice anything but herself. She had used a particularly powerful visitor, by her own reckoning, to conceive and never revealed it to him._

_If only those men could see her now._

_Her sea-blue eyes normally tranquil and calm and filled with intelligence were flinty as ice and full of malice. Her soft face sharp and unforgiving. It was enough to make any child flinch when they fell under her gaze. This child, the subject of her rants, was no different, even if she called the cold beauty mother._

_"I do not know mother. Please...let me try again. I will prove I'm worthy of your tutelage." The child was smart, a prodigy, as any child of hers was expected to be. It didn't matter at all. No child of hers would be less than perfect, less than the best. One could not be born of her blood and body and be so commonplace.  
_

_"Very well child. We'll start with runes once again," the woman tapped her lips with a delicate hand. "Recite to me the Eldar Futhark. Draw them out as well. Do not forget any this time." Having staved off another rant, the child was quick to gather quill and parchment and begin. Neither she, nor her mother, noticed the bright golden eyes watching through a crack in the door. Filled with sadness and anger at her treatment._

_"Fehu, Uruz, Purisaz, Ansuz," and the child continued on._

* * *

Every night the dreams would come, and repeat over and over again until they were so entrenched within him he may as well have truly lived them. He learned in them, remembered them, and those dreams became his memories. They became a part of him and began to shape him.

* * *

  _"Oh Lena," Helga whispered when her eyes fell on the new bruises._

_All it took was a look from said child and the woman pulled herself together. She knew not to make a big deal of the bruising, the child would not accept pity. Instead she offered her care, as she always did. "A comphrey paste will fix you right up, it will."_

_Lena offered a tremulous smile at her. Helga was a sturdy woman, and Lena's rock, known for her kindness and her determination. Her love for life and all things living. Laughter had given her wrinkles, seven children had rounded her hips over the years, but nothing could diminish the warmth in her face. It was to Helga that she ran to when her mother had gone a step to far. It was Helga that she wished, in the quiet of her room at night, was her mother instead._

_"What were you learning today," Helga asked as she worked the green plant with her mortar and pestle. Lessons were the child's life, it seemed. Rarely a time for frivolity._

_"Rituals," Lena whispered._

_"And why..." Helga left the end open, both knew what she was asked. What did she forget? Or get wrong, to deserve a strike._

_"We were talking about which rituals should be performed on which phase of the moon. I said full moons were best for clarity or rituals that dealt with the mind and the new moon was good to use for rituals about beginnings and rebirth. She agreed, of course, since she was the one that taught me so. But I asked if one could do both on the new moon or the full, create a ritual to combine the two. A ritual tailor made to bring a new beginning, with clarity and a hope for better insight and intuition. She wasn't pleased."_

_"Ah," and Helga knew. One did not recommend to her, or question her knowledge or even suggest that there were better ways than her own of doing things. Tradition and law ruled her, she may be terribly smart but she wasn't very creative. If she had suggested it, it would have been fine."And she struck you for it?"_

_"No," the little girl whispered. "I argued with her, twas my punishment." Such a bleak statement from a child made for a sad state of affairs._

_"Maybe it would be best if you didn't argue with her," Helga offered with a sad smile. "If you want to discuss something come to me and we'll work it out together instead. Will that do, Lena?" The child couldn't help but reply with a blinding smile._

* * *

A great many of those dreams focused on two particular women. Both of whom he knew didn't give birth to him. But he knew he would have liked to call Helga mother, if he wasn't allowed his real one back. Helga tended to his bruises and scrapes in his dreams. She was wonderful and strong with a heart built for love, and love she did, all the children at the castle.The other woman, the one he did call mother in his dreams, he didn't like at all. She was the reason for his bruises and scrapes, most of the time. Most of the students were in awe of her intelligence and wary of everything else about her. All of them were wary of garnering her wrath.

Other times the dreams focused on other people of the castle.

A man with fiery red hair and a jewel encrusted sword that laughed boisterously and fought like a demon when provoked. He claimed bravery and treated Lena like a little lady, doted on her with his smiles, and taught her to fight with a dagger against her mother's orders. He had a deft hand with creatures as well and taught her how to greet each and every race in their own special way. He was the closest thing she had to a father and Harry would like to think the man would have made a good dad. Fun and protective. Like the man that made light shows with his wand to entertain him in his earlier dreams. Lena called the red haired man Ric.

Another, seemed the antithesis to the fiery one. Black hair, black beard, black eyes. He allowed Lena to call him Zar in private and he taught her potions and how to protect her mind. He had a sharp tongue, a sharper mind and every time he saw her she would catch the throbbing vein in his forehead before the man would take a deep breath and put on a calm and tranquil face. Most people saw him as cruel, Harry saw him differently. He was strong and silent. He noticed the man was only angry when she had a bruise he could see.

Harry even noticed that Helga and the two men often gave Lena's mother dark looks, even if Lena never did.

* * *

_Lena stilled when she heard the door creak._

_It was a trait she had learned quickly. To be silent. The finger shaped bruises on her wrists were testament to how she had failed last night, but she wouldn't fail tonight. When no noise came she hurried along the hallways and down the stairs, a pack slung over her shoulder filled with her necessary supplies. He bare feet barely made a sound on the stone floors as she slipped through the shadows._

_She was going to do her first ritual, under the full moon, tonight. Helga had been sweet enough to help her work out what she wanted to do and teach her the ways to prepare everything she needed. A blessing, that woman._

_It didn't take her long to slip out of the castle and into the night air. The moon was full and high, the air cool, it was a perfect night._

_She drew the circle in the grass with her salt and herb mix, laid out her candles one by one. A white candle for innocence and balance. A gold one for intuition. Several purple candles for inspiration, wisdom and the higher mind. A blue one for serenity. A green for rejuvenation and protection. A gray for stability and a black for resilience and strength._

_With all her candles spread around her she sat down and picked up the first one. A whisper and a breath and it ignited. With a smile the ritual began._

* * *

_"My Lady Lena," the red headed man said with a smile.  
_

_"Good Sir Ric," she parroted and gave a curtsy. He took her in his arms and spun them about to the music.  
_

_"It's proper for a lady to learn to waltz," he told her._

_"Must I go find your son then," she asked with a mischievous glint. "Maybe he could teach me."_

_"You wound me child," the man said with a dramatic pose. "I taught the young lad everything he knows, I did."_

_"He's three and can barely toddle."_

_The man choked on his laughter and offered his hand anyway._

_"Fine, teach me if you must." Their laughter rang through the room as he did so._

* * *

  _"Now stir...which direction?" Zar questioned._

_"Back," Lena answered with a nod._

_"And why?"_

_"Because the direction you stir changes the properties of the ingredient last dropped in the cauldron."_

_"Explain."_

_"To stir forward keeps the properties of an ingredient the same or enhances them, to stir backward changes the properties to their opposite."_

_"So, something poisonous would?"_

_"Would lose that attribute and gain some healing property instead."_

_"Good child. Good. Depending on the strength of the poison determines how many turns you must use to nullify it. So, how many turns?"_

_"In this case, twenty eight most likely."_

_"And why?"_

_"Aconitum is a poisonous plant, capable of causing sickness if taken over a prolonged period of time. A class three poison. All class three poisons get an automatic fourteen turns. Anything that could possibly kill should get an automatic fourteen turns, anything that will kill without an antidote, a full twenty eight."  
_

_"Good. The lesson. How many turns that are normally used depends on the harmful attributes while direction depends on the properties you wish the ingredient to instill. I'll make a potions mistress out of you yet, child."_

* * *

In those dreams he could forget he was Harry. A boy, locked in a cupboard, or a simple servant without any privileges. He became Lena. The child with a overbearing mother but lovely teachers. And if he picked up habits from those in his dreams it was expected.

* * *

 " _You're a peculiar little thing," Helga commented with a smile._

_Lena simply shrugged her shoulders as they dug through the warm dirt, a small smile on her face. It had taken a lot of time but they had convinced her mother that Helga was best to tutor her in the magic of plants. They were nothing liker her mothers lessons, strict and punishing. Or Zar's, quiet lessons filled with curiosity and discovery.  
_

_"I try," Lena answered._

_"Did you notice the staircases moving this morning," Helga asked. There was a knowing glint in her eyes that had Lena, a teensy bit, sheepish._

_"I may have."_

_"And?"_

_"Now they will help wary children escape their tormentors," Lena whispered._

_"Impressive bit of magic, child," the woman said with wide eyes. "And at thirteen, no less. What did you use?"  
_

_"A great deal of Runes and spells to set about the motion and speed of the motion and a sympathetic ritual."_

_"Impressive."_

_"The ritual has helped me clear my mind," Lena rebutted, referring to the very ritual Helga had helped her prepare for so long ago. One she regularly performed every full moon without fail. "I can think clearer now, it's given me the strength to have faith in myself and my own abilities. Zar has been teaching me how to organize my mind as well. I can think quicker, too."_

_"Getting braver with your magic, I'm proud. Confidence is an integral part to magic, as is experiments," Helga told her. There was no mistaking the pride that radiated from the woman._

_"I'm beginning to find my own way," was her simple answer. "Although, I believe my path is different than the one my mother would set for me. I fear I will never live up to her expectations, be normal in her eyes." Lena told her. She didn't want to follow in her mothers footsteps, she wanted to make her own way. Make her own mark on magic for the future. She had gifts her mother didn't know about. Things she kept hidden from everyone save Helga. She would make her own way with them even if it killed her. Her mother's definition of normal was relative. It was normal for a child of hers, not normal in general.  
_

_"I'm glad you've figured that much out. We must make our own path," Helga told her. "To be her definition of normal would be such a bore, wouldn't it?"_

_"I think it would be," she answered. "I think it would be."_

_Both became lost in their own thoughts as they continued their work in silence. Taking care of the many plants that needed tending, or picking what needed picked for ingredients would take most of the day. Their voices twisting together as they sang, old songs and new, bringing the plants to heel with their timber. It was relaxing, singing and filling her voice with magic. Directing it with her voice to aide in the growing and harvesting of ingredients._

_It was nearing sunset when Lena noticed the mischievous look in Helga's eyes and raised a brow. The older woman simply smiled._

_"My youngest son is returning within a fortnight."_

_"Truly?" She hadn't seen Hamish, Helga's seventh son, in what seemed years. He was older than her, several years but always sweet. She could still remember his rant about her mother when he had spied how the woman treated her through the crack of the door. She counted him a friend. One of the few she was allowed to have. She hoped he would remember her._

_"Mhmm, its getting closer to winter. There is no need for him to stay and work the farms when there isn't any farm to tend to. Any work that is left his older brothers can finish. He's coming to learn. He may need a tutor."_

_"He will not wish to work with me, Helga, he's six years my senior."_

_"Ah, he is, he is. But I'm sure you could act as a guide for him, at the least. The castle has changed so much."_

_"I would be glad to."_

* * *

Harry was a bright child, an inquisitive child. He liked to compare things from his dreams to reality.

He was terribly surprised when he managed to light a candle as Lena had done for her ritual. Surprised and quick to put it out lest his relatives find out. His teachers were struck dumb when he named off the Latin names for certain plants they talked about in class. All things Helga had taught Lena. When his aunt Petunia forced him to do the gardening the plants responded to his voice as they had Lena's. His voice wasn't as trained yet, but he practiced often. If he talked a bit old fashioned sometimes it was easily overlooked. If he could focus on things and move them, no one need know but him.

By his eighth birthday he had performed the ritual Lena and Helga had put together while his family were gone. Even he could admit the difference he felt later that week. He felt more clearheaded, focused, and a weight he didn't know was present had dissipated. So he continued with other ones Lena did. A weekly meditation ritual, a cleansing ritual, and several blessings. He practiced the ways Zar had taught Lena to guard her mind and found he could recall memories and knowledge easier and quicker. A monthly good fortune ritual and a clarity ritual soon followed. It wasn't easy to find the different colored candles but he managed.

But Lena was growing faster than he was.

* * *

_"It's past time you found a husband," her mother called out. Everyone in the dining hall winced at the tone they knew so well. Those who protected her shielded the annoyance and anger in their eyes as best they could. Lena, herself, couldn't help but cringe._

_This topic had turned into a regular discussion once she refused to take lessons from her mother anymore. Marriage was a quick way for her to wash her hands of Lena. The child that refused to be as great as she could be. The child that refused to do their name justice with her fruitless endeavors. Lena refused to do a great many things, marriage to a suitor her mother had chosen would be added to the list. The woman wouldn't make it easy for her, that was sure. Just like she hadn't made her life or studies easier for her. The woman didn't understand. She had different interests than her mother did. Where her mothers skill lay in charms and transfiguration, arithmancy and astronomy. Lena's skill leaned towards runes, rituals, divination, herbology and potions. Subjects that required, for the most part, creativity and warmth, intuition and insight._

_She had to break away, her magic refused to be contained. She would have smothered if she hadn't._

_But she was a disappointment, apparently, and her mother was keen to marry her off to separate her from their famous name. She continued, ignoring Lena's darkening visage. "Eighteen is more than an appropriate age to look. Baron Addleson has asked about you."_

_"I will not be with the baron," she bit out and slipped from the room regardless of her mothers calls for her to return. Baron Addleson was older than her, by a good fifteen or so years and a lecher. The way his crinkled eyes devoured her form ever time she was in range made her sick to her stomach. She would rather die than be with him. Regardless, her heart belonged to another. Even if their love was their secret._

_On cue strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she leaned into his embrace._

_"The baron again?" His deep voice soothed her frayed nerves._

_"Yes," she whispered as she laid her arms over his and reveled in his warmth. They had discussed this many a time together. He was sweet enough to listen and proclaim what he would do to keep her. It had come as no surprise to Helga, apparently, when Hamish and Lena had grown close. Lena had become Hamish's guide to the castle when he came as well as a tutor in potions and rituals at the tender at of fourteen. Being the only son Helga had that had interests in other things than farming like his brothers, he had come to learn at Helga's behest. Lena, a regular scholar, had been the focus of his attentions for nearly a year. What had been friendship had obviously developed further.  
_

_On her fifteenth birthday he had confessed his feelings for her, heartfelt and oh so tender. It took her nearly a year before she finally let him past the walls she had built with her insecurity and fears. He had been determined she saw his feelings were truly genuine and with small meaningful gifts and warm looks and sweet words he had worn her down. She returned them half past her sixteenth birthday. Now, two years later they were inseparable._

_With him she found a level of peace that allowed her to truly flourish and seek out her dreams and aspirations._

_She had become adept in potions, herbology, divination and runes. A master of rituals. A fair hand at transfiguration and charms. But her passion lay in something harder to study. Life, past and future, and the soul. An area more obscure than most available. She had fought to keep her gift of sight hidden from her mother and succeeded. Now she kept her studies secret as well. She practiced the dark arts, yes. Her studies required a certain level of it. But dark was more than just evil. Hamish called her Lady Midnight in jest. Yes, she worked in the dark arts but there was light in everything she touched. Just like the stars at midnight, he would explain._

_Hamish supported her best and she him._

_He had a strong mind for warding, charms and defense. Ric had taught him at Lena's behest. The man wouldn't deny the girl he saw as a daughter in all but blood even if he rarely took a pupil under his own wing. All it took was Lena to confess her love and fear for Hamish and Ric took the boy under his wing to teach him. His lessons were harsh to say the least, from what she had witnessed.  The man had told both Hamish and Lena that to earn his approval Hamish would have to master all he could teach him. Swordplay, duelling, magical battle, all were forced on him and Hamish worked feverishly to learn all he could. To earn approval from one Lena looked to as a father._

_It was no surprise that Zar stepped in when Ric was finished. If Ric's tutoring was brutal than Zar's was nothing short of pure torture. Lena wasn't allowed to witness all that Zar taught Hamish, the lessons were to harsh for her by Zar's reasoning and he had been adamant she not attend. She worried but after each lesson she would tend to Hamish with tender care and he never faltered._

_In turn, Lena taught Hamish potions and rituals to the best of her abilities. Which proved to be more considerable than even she realized._

_He was loyal to a fault. He even convinced his mother to let them make rooms deep in the castle for themselves and protected them with the greatest fortifications that he could come up with. There they stored their work. Lena's journals and supplies. Hamish's weapons and stones. Their fortune. There they hid most days among their books and possessions. Hamish was her friend, her everything, and he claimed she was his as well._

_Whenever they looked at Helga, the woman couldn't help but send them a smug smile. The cat that got the canary and the cream all rolled into one. The older woman knew, beyond a doubt, that they would make a connection and played matchmaker like cupid himself._

_Lena was more than grateful._

* * *

Harry longed for the connection, the deep friendship and love, that Lena shared with Hamish.

He didn't have friends while awake. Dudley and his gang easily scared off any hopefuls. If there were any, at least. Not many wanted to talk to the boy that held himself straight and proper with the manners of a courtier while he looked like a vagrant. The boy with raggedy clothes, to large for his small frame, and wild black hair. The quiet child that could speak Latin like a scholar and refused to explain how he had learned.

So he distracted himself with all the lessons he remembered, reciting the runes he learned, the phases of the moon, potion ingredients. He meditated often, on the lessons Lena had learned. He built up walls in his mind to protect his secrets like Zar had taught Lena.

He poured himself into his school work, excelled where his cousin began to fail. When his aunt told him to stop using his freaky ways to best Dudley, he simply gave her a bland look. Any punishment he incurred he returned in his own way. To much starch when he did their laundry, food spiced to hot or made bland. Like Lena, Harry refused to be beaten down. A cupboard may have been his bedroom, their treatment of him something awful but it would not, he refused to let it, be his undoing. He wasn't normal and refused to be. Besides, just like Helga told Lena, it would be boring to be normal.

Whatever punishment he received always seemed worth it. He was stubbornness personified. He refused to let Petunia or Vernon see him cry, holding his emotions in check and releasing them in the cleansing rituals.

Anything and everything was used to keep his mind off of his loneliness.

* * *

_"Lena," Helga called and the girl turned quickly. There was panic in Helga's eyes and for a moment Lena thought of Hamish, gone two days already on a fortnight trip to bring supplies back to the castle. She couldn't help the panic that seized her chest._

_"Hamish," she whispered. It was all she could manage with her chest tight and lungs seizing._

_"No, he's fine. But I have to speak with you, now." Without another word Helga dragged her into a room and locked the door._

_"Your mother just told us that she's marrying you off to Baron Addleson in a three weeks," the woman's words nearly ran together in her haste. "It will be a closed ceremony, he's already paid your bride price. She's insisting on a tight bonding."_

_"Which ceremony," Lena asked, her voice shaking._

_"The Eight-Fold Ceremony."_

_"But that will make me little better than a slave to his whims," she whispered, horrified. It was a bonding meant for loose women. Eight promises or orders ingrained into the magic. He could insist whatever he wished and she would be bound by it. She never got along with her mother but to think the woman would stoop so low as to sell her daughter into slavery was unthinkable._

_"I know, the only way that binding will fail would be if you were already in a bond, a strong one." Helga was quick to speak to try and calm her but it wasn't working._

_"Will Hamish," she asked and Helga's face broke into a gentle smile._

_"He has asked me for permission already."_

_"Then I must go to him," Lena whispered._

_"I have a horse drawn and ready. Make sure to use a strong binding, one that your mother will not be able to break," Helga told her with a smirk. "Now, go. He's but a few days ahead of you."_

_"I will make haste," Lena told her and with a quick hug she was out the door._

* * *

Time seemed to trickle by, going slowly as if waiting for a build up.

Harry noticed the odd looks he received from his aunt and uncle at each of his ignored birthdays. It seemed they were waiting for something. They were dreading something. Harry knew the feeling. He had felt it for a few years now. Just like the feeling something was missing, he could feel something was to come. Times were about to change.

He looked forward to what ever would come.

* * *

  _Lena managed to catch up to Hamish within two days of hard riding, not stopping even for sleep._

_When he saw her he simply pulled her into his arms and held her as she told him all she could. He was angry, it was easy to see in his near glowing golden eyes, but he tempered that anger and focused on her._

_"Would you marry me," he asked with all the tenderness he had._

_"I would," she whispered. "I would be with you, always."_

_"Then marry me and when we return, we will not hide it. We will be together," he told her. His arms strong about her waist. "She will not part us."  
_

_"The full moon is in a week. We will wait to return to the castle until we are bound and strong." Lena gave him a gentle smile for his strength and kissed his cheek.\_

_"Come now," he spoke as he led her and helped her onto the wagon. "Rest, we will be at the village in four more days. We'll gather what we need." She simply watched him, from her perch, as he tethered her horse to the wagon. Her racing heart had calmed, her tears dried. She was with him. With a small smile, he pulled her into his arms once he climbed up to sit beside her. A snap of the reins and the wagon was moving.  
_

_"You'll be mine," he told her with a smile. "Soon."_

_"Always," she returned._

_They spent the trip in each others arms. In each others comfort. They gathered the supplies needed and on the full moon they stood together. The binding ritual Lena wrote at their feet._

_Inside a circle drawn with salt and herbs, a mixture Lena had perfected for her rituals, they stood facing each other._

_Magic, itself, was their witness._

_"I bind myself to thee Hamish Alric Hufflepuff," Lena spoke. Her voice steady and her magic thrumming. "May our minds be open to each other, May our voices speak together, May our hearts beat as one, May our bodies be faithful. May we walk the same path, May our destinies always cross, in this life and others. Our magic, our fates, forever intertwined."_

_With each statement she touched him. His temples, throat, chest, waist, and feet._

_"I bind myself to thee," she told him and lay a hand over his heart. "Body, mind, and soul."_

_Magic wrapped around them and settled like a blanket over them both. Lena smiled at him, she could see the love in his eyes clearly._

_"I bind myself to thee, Helena Ravenclaw," Hamish spoke. His voice reverent. "May our minds be open to each other, May our voices speak together, May our hearts beat as one, May our bodies be faithful. May we walk the same path, May our destinies always cross, in this life and others. Our magic, our fates, forever intertwined."_

_For each statement he copied the touches she had bestowed on him._

_"I bind myself to thee," he said gently and lay a hand over her heart. "Body, mind, and soul."_

_Again the magic flowed around them. Ropes of moonlight wrapped around them, tying them together._

_With bright eyes, they lay a hand over each others hearts once more and spoke in time. "Grant our request, Mother magic. So mote it be."_

_With a flash of light the ropes sunk into their bodies, and they could feel their bonds take hold._

_She felt it then, an awareness in the back of her mind. With a smile she prodded it and felt a gentle prod back. They were connected. They were one. May magic have mercy on any that dared to come between them._

* * *

Harry woke up from the dream about Lena or Helena, her full name, and Hamish being bound together with screams of pain. He was so delirious from his pain he passed off the black cloud that poured from his scar as a delusion.

Later, when he had been beaten for his screams by his uncle and he lay gasping and biting his lips to keep in the pain, he felt it.

The space beside him was empty, missing the man who stood there before. But in it's place he felt an awareness in the back of his mind. A prod and he felt hope and confusion rush through the link. Hamish was alive. The realization was confusing. He was Harry Potter and Helena Ravenclaw, and he was missing Hamish at his side. While depressed at the absence, he felt hope. Hope that the magical world he dreamed of. Of castles and creatures, wizards and witches, was real and out there.

Harry Potter had hope.

It wasn't until his uncle had taken the family to a ramshackle hut, nearly two years later, in the middle of nowhere that the hope bloomed truly.

Hagrid, a gentle giant if there ever was one, gave him a letter. The giant would never realize that the simple letter meant more than anything to Harry. It was his invitation to a world of magic. An invitation to a future he had only dreamed of.


	2. Welcome to Diagon Alley

The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley was nearly enough to dampen the excitement he felt. Nearly, but not quite. His first foray into the magical world was just as brilliant as he had always imagined it to be. Buildings leaned but didn't fall, objects floated, cloaks and pointed hats, magic and light were everywhere he turned.

It was magnificent.

Standing beside the massive man that had collected him from the ramshackle house on the island, he couldn't help but feel safe. It was hard not to be considering the sheer size of his escort. He had been a bit leery about the large man, Hagrid. Harry could easily recall Sir Ric's lessons from his dreams. Giants were not creatures to be trifled with. So even a half-giant like Hagrid had to have a temper. The man was quick to prove him wrong however as he guided Harry with a large hand on his shoulder through the crowds. People parted for the man and Harry felt more than secure.

"First we'll be goin' to Gringotts," the giant explained. The man had to nearly bend in half to tell Harry over the noise.

Harry nearly tripped over his feet. In his dreams Gringotts was in the plans but not finished, no where near finished. It was an idea that the goblins wished for. Sir Ric had left the castle many a month to converse with the creatures about the prospects. They were ruthless in their negotiations but Sir Ric was the head of the Wizarding council and just as hard edged as they were.

"When was Gringotts built Hagrid," Harry asked with a shaky breath.

"Built round...1450 something I think," Hagrid answered. "The only bank in the wizarding world. Run by goblins, it is. Proud creatures, those." Harry simply nodded, his mind full and running with the possibilities.

His dreams were of the past. A past where he lived as Helena, Helena Ravenclaw. A child of one of the founders of the school he was getting ready to attend. He nearly tripped again when the implications finally hit. Soul magic, something Helena practiced, and something Harry was slowly learning through her...his...their eyes. A past where Helena had married and bound herself to Hamish.

A sudden panic gripped his chest and without a moment to spare he sent a thought, a pulse, through the link he now felt and had for over two years. It had to still be there. Hamish had to be alive for it to work. A few seconds was all it took for a soothing pulse to return, filled with the gentle calm Hamish had exuded and some confusion. Harry nearly crumpled to the ground in relief. Hamish was alive, he had lived and was born anew as well. Oh, to meet him now.

Harry only had to find him.

With determination he sent another pulse, filled with his want, his need and hope and promise through the link. He would find him again. When an answering pulse washed back, echoing everything he had sent, Harry smiled and raised his head high, following the giant into the bank.

* * *

The bank was crowded but only just so. They had to wait and the time it took was plenty for Harry to gather his thoughts and a massive list of questions as well as run through a few of the lessons Sir Ric had instilled in him.

Goblins were an ornery race, prideful and uninterested in anything but their business. Harry had no problem putting on a show.

_"They smile like a dragon, all teeth and promises of pain," Ric explained and then smiled just like he described they did. "Give them the same in return, it will prove that you are not to be trifled with, that you are not afraid of them. Be truthful, blunt and to the point. They haven't the time or patience for flattery but show them respect and they will do the same in return."_

A few steps from the goblin teller and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He gave the goblin a tilt of his head, read the beings name plate, and gave him a smile full of teeth.

"Teller Griphook," he spoke. "I'm unfamiliar with Gringotts and would like any and all information you have about the services your establishment provides and their cost. I would find it beneficial. I would also like to make a withdrawal."

"Key," the goblin bit out with a nod of approval.

"Oh, I've got the key," Hagrid cut in. It took a moment for the man to fish it out of his voluminous pockets but he managed and passed it over.

"Acceptable," the goblin told them as he turned the key over in his hands. A sharp gesture of his hand and Harry followed the creature to what seemed like mining carts. The ride was quick and led them to a vault. His trust vault. Harry gave a suspicious glance to Hagrid. Why he had the key to his vault was a mystery that Harry wasn't about to let pass, nor why a man named Dumbledore would have them to give. A mystery he was quick to want solved, but even he knew that he was woefully unprepared for any type of confrontation as yet, he would bide his time for now and find the answers he needed first.

As soon as he stepped into the vault with Griphook at his side he launched his questions.

Many of his questions the goblin seemed impressed with and others the goblin seemed reluctant to answer but Harry was nothing if not determined. Within thirty minutes they were back in the main part of the bank. Harry now carried a beautiful leather coin purse embroidered with the potter family crest filled to the brim with coin but weightless, a small book of vouchers for larger purchases and several books that detailed the banks services, the inventory to his vault and a thoroughly flummoxed Hagrid. The poor dear didn't seem to know what to think of him.

Harry couldn't be happier.

He had a new key made for his trust vault just in case, requested an inventory of that vault, as well as several other vaults that he had access to which would be delivered later by owl, and had them all locked down for his peace of mind. It seemed the trust was specific for school things and something similar to an allowance that had been preset. Twenty galleons a month was a generous allowance by his reckoning once the goblin had explained the money conversion from pounds to Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. A generous allowance that was transferred from the main vault each month, and had started on his eight birthday and had accumulated since he had never used it. A seven hundred fifty galleon limit per year for school supplies was also included, which would be transferred into his vault in August of each new year. The other vaults were his mother and father's personal vaults, which he was excited about looking through once he received their inventories. There was a main Potter vault as well that he couldn't access until he turned fifteen and a storage vault he could. Any other keys Griphook offered to recall. Harry agreed, he didn't know who Dumbledore was but a man in charge of a school should not have had access to his vaults.

He counted the trip to Gringotts a success. What followed was a whirlwind of shopping. Even he had to admit he went a little overboard, but he would not be caught unaware and there was centuries of information he needed to update himself on.

A three compartment trunk, charmed to shrink at his command and weightless, was quickly filled with all that he thought he needed and many things he knew he didn't but couldn't keep himself from purchasing.

At Madam Malkins he bought all the clothes he would need, including everything on the list and regular clothes, and a plethora of clothes specific to muggle clientele. The clothes the Dursley's had so 'graciously' given him were left in the trash. It was there he also found a backpack, with an extension charm. Perfect for lugging the veritable library worth of books he had bought at the book store he wanted to read immediately.

He had a lot to catch up on since the knowledge he learned through his dreams was, at the least, a few centuries old. Hagrid ended up leaving him at the wand shop for business he had apparently forgot at the bank due to Harry's questions. An hour later, a thoroughly annoyed, Harry cradled his wand. The brother to the same one that gave him his scar. He was not happy and resolved to fix the mistake as soon as he had the chance.

A stop an an eyeglass store tucked between Quality Quidditch Supplies and a quill store and he had new glasses, oval shaped, classy and silver. It took him a few moments to marvel at how clear everything was. His eyesight was terrible.

A stop at Eeylops owl emporium and Hagrid, who had returned, bought him a beautiful white owl. A birthday present. His first in this life. She was a beautiful, snowy white owl and within a minute of laying her golden eyes on him she had began preening his hair. He resolved to name her for her mothering tendencies first chance he could focus on the task.

If Hagrid felt out of sorts from Gringotts it was nothing compared to his feelings when they arrived at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. Harry very nearly fainted at the product before, in Hagrid's opinion, he became a whirlwind of activity. In the dreams the supplies for potions were much harder to come by so it was a veritable treasure trove of ingredients. Harry was more than interested. An hour and a half later Harry had acquired all the things he would need for any ritual he had done, any supplies for school, and near a hundred galleons worth of other ingredients, tools, and supplies. A smaller potion's trunk that easily slid into his actual trunk kept everything organized and fresh.

By the time they left the Alley, Harry was near exhausted. The only thing he was truly disappointed in was the wand he had been matched with and the lack of other students he had run into. Draco Malfoy simply reminded him of a miniature Dudley complete with sneer and an over inflated ego. It had only taken a few minutes for the blonde to realize Harry was ignoring him for the blonde to disappear in a huff.

Either way, he counted the day as a win. Especially when, with a few careful words, Hagrid threatened his relatives into leaving him be, and letting him study on the world they had lied about to him. If he found out that he promised a snout to go with Dudley's new tail, all it would produce was giggles. Harry had gave the man a bright smile as he left and kept his face neutral when he faced the Dursleys.

Miracle of miracles, they gave him a room. Small and cluttered with broken things, but a room nonetheless. He cleaned and settled in for a long couple of weeks with his new books and a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels rushed. I had trouble writing it. I would consider it a filler chapter. I'm half way through, I think, with the next chapter which should be long and detailed and answer some questions. I didn't want to spend a lot of time on shopping and such. I get bored when I read stories like that and didn't want to inflict it on any one else.
> 
> Any questions, suggestions, etc.. feel free to tell me!

**Author's Note:**

> It might seem like I'm setting Harry up to be super smart and stuff. Which he kind of will be, but he is going to struggle some in Hogwarts. Most of what he knows, from his dreams, has changed overtime or has been forgotten.


End file.
